Category Archives: divorce

Choose Empowerment

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It’s a constant struggle between my past and my future.
The past is familiar; it leaps up into my consciousness
and makes itself seen and felt again and again and again.
The future is unknown; it’s the stuff hoped for
and requires faith and focus to keep my vision clear.
I pray for the stamina to keep reinvesting my energy in my future,
to draw my attention back to the good things to come.
I pray for the time when his choices aren’t ricocheting in my mind
they way they’ve done for over a year—
and it’s been quite an interesting year.
Each day, I discover, I make a choice.
I can choose victimhood or empowerment;
but it’s always my choice.
May I always choose empowerment.
Amen.

A Refreshing Place

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I’m writing letters to my future lover,
giving myself permission to envision life
after the death of what I once knew.
After months of loneliness,
feeling victimized, betrayed,
caught in a prison of anger and resentment,
hitting rock bottom financially
and feeling suicidally depressed,
it goes without saying
that feeling turned on to possibility
is quite a refreshing place to be.

Half of Us

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How could I ever love again?
Heart broken into a thousand tiny pieces…
Memories as fresh as if they happened yesterday
turning in my stomach as I turn down a street
we drove together a thousand times.
I breathe. I’m still here.
How could I ever trust again?
Vows broken as if they were nothing.
Contracts unspoken, lives undone,
families shattered into unrecognizable iterations,
the friendly faces that were once so dear to me
withhold their light, retreat into darkness, silence.
Who am I in this chaos?
If I am to love, I must love myself.
If I am to trust, I must trust myself.
If I am to find wholeness, I must complete myself.
God, hear my prayer.
Let me trust these changes.
Let me believe good things are coming
in the new dawning of my soul
as I finally release the sad hollowness
of a love that was held and nourished faithfully
by just one half of us.

Intrusion

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He wants to say Hi to the kids every night.
Every night his voice is in my home
like he never left.
now his mistress’s voice is in my home,
as my son asks if she is there,
and her face and her voice appear.
Son says that he can’t wait to see her, the other woman.
My son can’t wait to see my husband’s mistress.
How do I compartmentalize?
How do I live with the cognitive dissonance?
I’m trying to be free of them,
but they are in my mind,
in my home,
in my children’s minds.
My children are innocent.
They are loving, accepting and kind,
just like I want them to be,
just like I taught them to be.
But I get tense every night when he calls.
He left my bed, my heart, my home,
but every night he comes back
like he never left.

To Resilience

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Dear Resilience,
You’ve always shown up when I needed you.
You always helped me to get through.
I need you to be here now,
to be with me in full force.
Resilience, my friend,
show me how to make it through this.
Last year, when he said it was over,
you showed up
and helped me survive.
When I was a puddle on the floor,
you came to me and said,
Eat. Sleep. Meditate. Cry.
Take a walk.  Take a bath.
Call a friend. Call on God.

Day after day
you helped me live through
heartbreak, betrayal and loss.
You helped me make it through one dark year.
Now Resilience,
I want you to show me
my deeper resourcefulness.
I want you to help me connect
to the best part of myself
and stay connected.
I want to move forward,
stand strong,
provide for myself and my kids.
Can I trust in you to be there for me?
You’ve always helped me in the past.
Can I trust in you now?

Hopefully yours,

Lorien

Wish Me Luck

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Sleep deprivation.
Kids woke me up at night.
Lost my temper. Yelled.
Felt ashamed.
Too angry to sleep.
Tossed and turned all night.
Morning came. Groggy.
Meditation was a joke.
Meditated anyway.
Worried my teaching would be compromised.
Taught two yoga classes anyway.
Grocery store, card declined,
scrambling to scrape up money;
a girlfriend lent me the rest of what I needed.
(Had to drive to her house to borrow a card
and drive it back again.)
Embarrassed.
Ashamed.
Depressed.
Turned it around,
made dinner,
read the kids a story.
Snuggled my son.
He said he loved me.
Then he said he loved his dad.
The he said he loved the other woman.
He said her name as we were snuggling.
The kids went to their rooms. To bed.
I lost it again.
I was slamming and screaming
This isn’t fair!
I don’t deserve this.
Slamming and screaming.
Don’t traumatize the children.
I asked my husband to get the kids.
I told him I needed to get help.
He came and got them.
My daughter cried;
she didn’t want to leave.
I tried to reassure her that I’m going to be ok.
I was trying to reassure myself too.
Guilty.
Ashamed.
Tired.
Feeling defeated.
Spoke with two recovery friends.
Feeling a little better.
Trying to rest now.
Wish me luck.

He’s Won

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More tears.
More anger.
Unending darkness.
Feeling hopeless,
worthless.
Alone.
The things that brought me joy
can no longer reach me. I try
but nothing gets done.
Take some pills they say.
They’ll take the edge off they say.
I give up.
He’s won.

 

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I’m thinking of taking a break from this blog after never missing a daily post for the last four and a half years. I can’t see what purpose is being served by my sharing here, as my sharing has heavily centered on grieving the loss of my marriage for over a year now. I want to contribute to the happiness of the people on this planet, not their sadness, but by sharing my sadness, don’t I amplify it? Has it been selfish of me to share publicly in this way and to let you know that I’m suffering? I honestly have been hoping that my writing here would bring me some relief, but I take no joy in it; it’s something I make myself do—and how inspiring can words born of that mindset really be?  If my words don’t inspire, I don’t want to inflict them on anyone.

I feel burdened by life, consumed in a darkness that threatens to blot out all memory of happiness and love and light. A mighty battle is being fought within me, a battle between darkness and light—and I’m not feeling confident of the outcome.  Both of my kids noticed.

My six year old son said, “Do you know what my greatest enemy is?”

“What?” I asked.

“Losing you,” he said.  I cried.  We were in my room looking at a Divine Feminine oracle deck while my daughter was bathing.

After she was out of the bath tub, the three of us piled into my bed to hang out while I brushed my daughter’s hair. After I was done brushing, she got up, looked at me with her eight years of wisdom, and said, “You know people die of sadness?”

“Oh really?” I asked. “Can you tell me more about that?”

“People can get so sad that they…just…die. And I don’t want that to happen to you.” I cried again.

My children nestled their heads against me and I stroked their hair while I cried more.  I felt like a piece of shit for not being able to just buck up and pretend I’m fine…so that they can know they’re safe in the presence of a strong mother who has it together for them—or some bullshit unreasonable thing people keep telling me I should do so that my kids don’t get traumatized by my depression. It’s great to be quite literally dying of sadness and then have a critical voice remind me that I’m selfish and should be a better mother and put my children first instead of wallowing in self-pity.

I’m fortunate in that my girlfriend Lucy is flying me out to CO to get away from this home where I lived with my husband and children for three and a half years. Too many memories.  Too many triggers.  My children will be in Utah with their father and his mistress.  He’s taking her home to meet his parents.  We’re still married, and I’m struggling to find my will to live each day.

I can’t know that this isn’t the best thing for me. So many people have said to me He gave you your freedom.  Someday you’ll see that and be grateful for it. But I’m not sure I’m going to make it to someday. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll make it one more day.

I’m considering taking a break from this blog while I’m in CO from 7/21-7/31.  I’m thinking of taking a complete break from everything I normally do, pack very lightly, and just be really open to what might arise in the space of not planning and not knowing.  What I’ve been doing isn’t working. It’s time for something to change.

Perhaps a change of pace. A change of scenery. A change of faces, and smells, and sounds, nothing familiar to trigger the cascade of sadness that hasn’t stopped flowing for a year. I’m bleeding out emotionally and the situation is dire.  No one can save me but me and I have to choose to want to be saved.  I hope the mountains will return me to my sanity. I’ll keep you posted, let you know what I decide. Thanks for reading.